Becoming My Mother's Daughter
by Ella Raven
Summary: The daughter of the notorious Anne Bonny is adopted by a wealthy family in Port Royal. But when she receives her mother's diary for her 18th birthday, what adventures will ensue?
1. Prologue

Hello everyone! I know, I know, I'm starting a new story when my other isn't finished yet, but I promise that one will get done in due time. This idea's been in my head for awhile, and I needed to start it. So... enjoy. And then review. :)

-- _Captain Ella Raven_

**Prologue**

Anne Bonny stood at the edge of her lover's ship, a sloop christened the _William_. Looking down at a small, blanket-clad bundle in her arms, she sighed, as one does when facing a great internal struggle. She gazed on the rapidly approaching shoreline to Port Royal, Jamaica, and wondered for the hundredth time if she was making the right choice.

A boy of fifteen or so appeared at Anne's side, startling her for a moment, and then she relaxed when she recognized who it was.

"Look, Jack," she said quietly, "Isn't she a beauty? This face 'ere will break a 'undred 'earts. Mark me words." It was the epitome of a mother's pride and love, even though her baby, a girl, was only a few weeks old. The boy, Jack, nodded, not really sure what to say. He wasn't particularly fond of babies in general, he had nothing against this particular one.

Anne spoke again, but in an urgent tone. "Jack. I need ye to go ashore ta' Port Royal, find a church or tha' like, and leave 'er there. When we dock ta' get supplies, I want ye to be as fast as ye can, an' don't tell anyone where ye be goin'. Savvy?"

The man in the crow's nest shouted, "Land ho!" and treading of heavy footsteps could be heard coming from below deck. "Jack!" Anne whispered, "Will ye do this fer me?" "Aye," he whispered back, just as figure emerged from below deck.

Calico Jack Rackham looked upon the baby in his lover's arms with contempt. It wasn't his child, it was her husband's, and he wanted no part in it, and he didn't want Anne tied up in caring for a baby.

"Anne," he told her severely, "I want tha' child gone before we leave Port Royal, or I'll be throwin' 'er to tha' sea meself." And with that, he left to supervise the docking of the sloop, and Jack emerged from the shadows once more, taking the child in his arms.

She stirred and opened big, blue eyes, waving tiny fists in the air, grabbing for Jack's face and hair.

"Anne," Jack said quietly so Calico Jack wouldn't hear, "What'll ye call 'er? A baby's got ter 'ave a name, don't it?"

Anne thought for a moment, and then responded with absolute certainty.

"Helena."

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So that's the Prologue. What do you all think? Read and review, loves.


	2. Enter Helena

So. The Prologue was short, but the chapters will be longer... I promise! Read and review, as always.

**Chapter One**

"Helena!"

A girl, currently wrapped up in layers and layers of blankets upon a fancy, wrought-iron canopy bed opened one eye lazily, in response to her name being called. She saw her maid, Cat, running in, breathing heavily and as mad as a hornet, so she smirked, rolled over, and closed her eyes again, feigning sleep. The maid began to shout and shake her, none too gently, in an attempt to wake the girl up.

"Helena. HELENA. MISS HELENA!" she shouted, and was finally rewarded by a head popping up from among the covers, yawning, and with wide-eyed innocence asking, "Oh, I'm sorry Cat. Were you calling me?" With a chuckle, Helena rolled out of bed and threw open her wardrobe, inspecting the clothes inside.

"If I may suggest something..." Cat started, but was quickly cut off. "No. You may not. It's my birthday and I'll wear whatever I please." Cat rolled her eyes and sighed, but not saying anything to rebuke the girl. It was the same routine daily, and Cat was fed up. Helena was an unmanageable brat, in her humble opinion, because Cat's employers, Helena's parents, spoiled her senseless. Anything that Helena wanted, Helena got, and God help any man that got in her way.

It had gone that way since Helena was adopted by the master and mistress when she was five, thirteen years ago. She had never been a particularly adorable child, her face was too sharp and angled, and her brown eyes and reddish hair were... well... ordinary. Cat didn't see why the Butlers, for that was their name, didn't adopt a child whose looks they could be proud of, maybe a blonde, blue-eyed girl. There were many such as this in the orphanage, but they had immediately selected Helena. And it wasn't just Cat that was confused; the whole household staff had been puzzled. In fact, they still were puzzled.

Helena, to the household staff, and anyone besides her parents, was a bratty girl of eighteen, spoiled rotten, and accustomed to getting her own way. In fact, she wouldn't accept anything but her way. "Nothing but the best for Miss Helena," the household staff had spat on more than one occasion. Cat had been her nurse since she had been adopted, and thought that it was high time that the girl got herself a husband. But there was a catch: he had to be able to manage such a girl. It wouldn't do for Helena to have a husband that she could walk all over, it would defeat the purpose.

It was for this reason that Cat had ever-so-slyly suggested to her employer, Mistress Butler, that Helena host a ball in honor of her eighteenth birthday. Maybe then she would put on her best manners and finally find a husband. There was no better time, Cat thought privately. Her own daughter was having a child quite soon, and with Helena gone, maybe she could retire from her job. After all, she wouldn't be needed anymore. Cat smiled as she thought this; to be free from the wretched Miss Helena would be something!

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that Helena's voice almost made her jump. "CAT! Where is your head today? I've been calling you for the past **five minutes**, asking you if you would please do your job and lace my corset!" Cat nodded, dully. Yes, it would be lovely to be rid of the burden that called herself 'Helena'.

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Finally, after over three hours of agonizing over dresses and jewelry, and after her hair had been done several times because it hadn't 'suited' her, Helena was ready, and about a half-hour late to her own party. "After all," she thought to herself, "The only entrance worthwhile is a fashionable entrance."

She gazed in the mirror with an appraising eye, trying to see her as a stranger would. She wasn't beautiful and she knew it; her friends were great beauties with their flowing golden hair and beautiful eyes, but Helena had an interesting look about her. Angled cheekbones and eyes that turned ever-so-slightly upwards gave her a pixie-like appearance, and her eyes were a murky brown color, rather large and out-of-proportion on her small face. She resented the fact that they weren't a clear, beautiful shade of blue or green, or even a dark, chocolate brown like some of her friends.

She was thin, but wiry, and not very strong, though ladies aren't really expected to be. For her birthday, she had selected a deep green silk, with a gossamer overlay, and intricate gold embroidery on the bodice. She marveled at her waist; she had screamed at Cat for the better part of an hour to pull the laces of her corset tighter, and her work had certainly paid off. Her reddish-brown hair was pulled into a loose chignon, "The latest style that all of the fine ladies in London are wearing," she silently intoned.

The creak of her bedroom door opening startled Helena from her narcissistic thoughts, and her mother, Virginia Butler, stepped into the room, looking lovely in a blue gown. It was said that one would never realize that Helena was adopted, for she bore a great resemblance to her mother. Her mother was Irish, that much she knew, but to Helena, her mother's past was, for the most part, a mystery, but she didn't dwell on it.

Her mother shut the door quietly behind her, and then stood, studying Helena, her eyes flitting over her face countless times, as if trying to commit it to memory. Finally, Virginia stepped towards her, holding what appeared to be a slim, worn book with a leather cover, and a bit of dirty, stained green ribbon wrapped around it. "Here," Virginia spoke quietly, "This is your birthday present. It was given to your father and I when we adopted you. We weren't to give it to you until your eighteenth birthday."

Helena took the worn volume and turned it over in her hands. The leather was marred with scratches and gashes, and worn away in parts. The ribbon was absolutely horrid looking, stained with dirt and God knows what else. She wrinkled her nose ever-so-slightly in distaste. "Mother, I don't wish to be rude, but... what is it? It's positively dreadful-looking." Virginia smiled a smile that was almost sad, regretful, and said almost mockingly, "Well, Helena, why don't you read it and answer that question for yourself."

With that, she whisked out of the room in a rustling of petticoats and silk, shutting the door and leaving Helena, puzzled, with the book still in her hands.

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The first chapter! Let me know what you all think of it. Read and review!

Yours,

-- Ella.

_Captain Ella Raven._


	3. A Pirate's Life for Me?

'ello loves! You haven't heard from me in awhile, and I apologize from the bottom of my filthy, black, weasly guts. My New Year's Resolution will be to update regularly! But, for now, enjoy and review. And Happy Holidays!

Chapter Two

Helena watched the closed door long after her mother left, still holding the worn book in her hands. Puzzled, she wondered what she had said to make her mother speak so... strangely... to her. Carefully untying the filthy green ribbon, she opened the book carefully, as if something was going to jump out at her. The pages, yellowed and worn, and stained with water and salt, crinkled under her fingertips, and the ink was fading to a brownish color, from what must have once been black.

_Property of Anne Bonny_, the first page proclaimed with neat, smooth writing, lacking the flourishes and twirls of most upper-class citizens. "Anne Bonny?" Helena said aloud, "Who's Anne Bonny, and why was _this_ my birthday gift?" She flipped through the pages, trying to find something that would be of interest to her, when finally she put her finger down on a page and read.

_I've been with child for many months now, staying in Nassau Port because I cannot attend to my duties on the ship. I'm afraid to have this child, afraid of what might happen to it. If it's a boy, Jack may accept him to work on the _William_, but if it's a girl, I shudder to think of what might befall her. It will be any day now, I'm sure of it. I pray to God, gods, anyone, that my child will be safe. _

_Anne Bonny_

Helena furrowed her brow in thought. This woman sailed on a ship called the _William_, but who was Jack? She found that by actually reading an entry in this 'journal', she was left with even more questions than when she began. As she turned the page to see what happened to Anne's baby, there was a sharp knock at the door.

"Miss Helena? Your mother sent me to come and retrieve you. Your ball has been going on for a couple of hours now, and you haven't showed up," Cat said icily. "I'm coming," Helena shot back hurriedly, tucking the book into her bodice and checking her hair in the mirror on her wall. She didn't want anyone reading what she had rapidly come to think of as _her_ book. It was her birthday gift, after all.

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Helena floated down the grand staircase of her home, smiling prettily at the young men, ignoring the heated, scornful gazes from the other girls. She knew that their mothers had forced them to come, in attempt to find suitors. They would not have come if it hadn't been for potential suitors, fine young men from the British Navy, for they weren't fond of Helena at all. In fact, she hardly had any friends to speak of.

As she was coming down the stairs, Helena spotted a couple, deeply involved in conversation, by the stairs. She had heard of them, a newly married couple, married quickly after returning from a trip at sea. She'd only heard snippets and bits of conversations here and there, but what she had heard was that there had been a scandal at sea, involving piracy and a man that Helena was sure didn't exist: Davy Jones. She had scoffed at the stories, tossing them off as rubbish, but her mother had smiled, especially at some particular part of the story she didn't care to remember. Elizabeth and William Turner were their names. Elizabeth was once a member of high society, a young woman filled with class, but after returning, she had been different. More liberal, free-thinking. And why she had gotten involved with William Turner, a blacksmith of all things, Helena couldn't fathom.

After several dances with young men, some that were handsome and some that were... average... looking, some terrible dancers, and some that nearly swept her off her feet, Helena went to the French doors that opened onto the terrace, hoping for some of the cool night air. She stepped out, gazing at the moon glinting off the Caribbean water, and felt something stir, deep down. She frowned, and looked out into the sea once more, but it was still there. Shaking her head, she walked off the terrace, and into the night.

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Jack Sparrow sat at a bar in Port Royal, Jamaica, drowning himself in rum, as usual. The World's End had been traveled, the heart of Davy Jones reclaimed and, after much argument, trials and tribulations, had been stabbed, killing Jones and releasing all of his crewmembers from bondage, sinking the _Flying Dutchman_ into the depths. And now? Now, Jack had come back for Lizzie, only to find her married off to the eunuch. "Figures," he mumbled. He was down on his luck, low on gold, and his crew was getting restless. The _Pearl_ was in need of serious repairs, and he needed money, quickly.

Which was why he had done the desperate, that no self-respecting pirate ever wants to do: he sent his crew out to kidnap an unsuspecting lady of high class, and hold her for ransom. Granted, he wouldn't harm her, he wasn't _that_ kind, but he wasn't going to treat her like a little princess either. "Blast Davy Jones," he muttered, and started on another bottle of rum.

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Walking along the streets of Port Royal with nightfall as her cloak, Helena ran into very few people, mostly members of the Navy, going about their watches and the like. Her slippered feet seemed to develop a mind of their own, as she made her way through a maze of streets and alleyways, only to find herself at the docks.

She stood as close to the water as she dared, breathing in the salty scent and watching the waves crash against the shoreline, never skipping a beat, never faltering. She hadn't been on an ship in her life that she'd remembered, though perhaps she'd been on one before she was adopted. She figured as much, for she'd always liked the sea. It was unpredictable, calm and pretty, and the next moment turbulent and fierce. She watched as the waves slapped up on the sand, splaying their foam about. She, unlike Mrs. Turner, nee Swann, had never felt the urge to go sailing, and in fact, she was fearful of ships. And unlike Elizabeth, she was extremely satisfied with her comfortable, predictable lifestyle, sated with the fact that she'd one day marry wealthy, and probably have several children of her own.

The footsteps came so suddenly, so quickly, that she hardly had time to turn around and see who it was. She smelled something awful, and then arms came around her, not giving her enough time to defend herself, not that she could have anyway. There was a laugh, one that was rough and gravelly, and then an intense pain in the back of her head as she slumped over, falling into unconsciousness.

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Pintel and Ragetti scurried through backstreets and alleys of Port Royal with a young woman in their arms, slung between them, unconscious. She had a gash in the back of her head, and her skin was a pale, ashen tone. "Wha' if she doesn't wake up?" Ragetti questioned his partner. "Ahh.. then Captain will deal wif it," he frowned. They hurried, careful as to not be spotted by any members of the King's Navy, and half-ran into a bar, the Foxhole.

There, in the back corner at a table in the shadows, sat Captain Jack Sparrow, slightly lucid, surrounded by bottles of rum. He looked up, as if surprised to see the two members of his crew, but then his eyes widened when he saw the young woman's limp form hanging between them. "I though' I told ye not ta' kill 'er. We be holdin' 'er fer ransom, I don't need 'er dead," he said, slurring drunkenly. As Pintel and Ragetti struggled to explain themselves, Captain Jack stood, though unsteadily, and swaggered over to the body slung between theirs. He examined her face, it looked somewhat familiar, but then again, didn't all faces look somewhat familiar to him? After confirming that she was, indeed, a member of the higher class of society and would most likely be offered a ransom for, he slung her over his shoulder, and together with Pintel and Ragetti, made his way to the Black Pearl, who was flying white sails and a British flag, by way of disguise.

He spun around awkwardly, partly due to the body slung over his shoulder, and addressed his two crewmembers. "Round up tha' rest of tha' crew. We need ta' set sail righ' away, or else we'll be caught." The two men scurried off to do his bidding, and he continued on his way from the docks up to his precious ship.

His _Pearl_. It had been horrid, living in the belly of the Kraken, knowing that she was at the bottom of the ocean, sunken into the depths in pieces. He had thought that once he got her back, and maybe with Lizzie by his side, he could finally sail into the horizon. Now he realized that that fantasy was only the side effects of overindulging in rum, which he hardly did. Lizzie was married, the _Pearl_ was in a sorry state, and he was now saddled with this little rich prat until her parents offered up money.

Jack Sparrow made his way down to the brig, set the girl down, still unconscious, none too gently, and slammed the cell door, making sure to lock it. With that, he climbed back up to his cabin, and, placing his hat carefully on the bedpost and removing his effects, flopped into bed.

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So... what did you all think? If you enjoyed it, or even if you didn't, review and let me know. Anonymous reviews are fine by me, just let me know what you thought!

Happy Holidays everyone!

Yours,

--Ella.

_Captain Ella Raven._


	4. Enter Ty

Yeah. So. I basically have no excuse as to why I've abandoned this story, other than lack of inspiration. But I was thinking about the story line a few minutes ago, and a little plot twist made its way into my mind, so here I am. Enjoy.

Chapter Three

Captain Jack Sparrow stood at the helm of the _Black Pearl_, staring blankly into the distance, occasionally adjusting the ship's direction, but only by a few centimeters. They were sailing toward Tortuga, where Jack had decided that he and his crew would lay low, until the parents of the girl in the brig had discovered her missing, and posted a large reward for her return. He sighed at that thought – he had never imagined that he, Captain Jack Sparrow, would be forced to kidnap innocent civilians in order to get by... it just wasn't... _him_.

But with the Isla de Muerta going all 'pear-shaped', as Gibbs had so eloquently put it, there was nothing else that he could really do. He sighed again, furrowing his brow. He needed rum.

Jack was startled out of his reverie by a crew member approaching the helm. Once his eyes had refocused, and he shook his head a bit to clear it, he caught the younger man smirk.

"Deep thinking, eh Jack?" he inquired.

"Captain. It's Captain. What do you want, whelp," Jack muttered.

"Bloody hell, _Captain_, do ye need some assistance in removing that stick from yer arse?"

"Go ta' 'ell, Ty," Jack scowled, "Yer lucky I don't keelhaul ye fer insubordination."

"My mum would 'ave yer head, and ye know it," Ty smirked.

"Go check on tha' lass in tha' brig, will ye? An' bring 'er some food or somethin'. We can't 'ave 'er dying... it would defeat tha' purpose."

Ty complied, and swiftly walked down the steps to the helm, shortly disappearing below deck.

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Helena opened one eye, and as soon as she saw the iron bars and the dark wood, the other rapidly popped open. She rubbed her eyes, praying that what she was seeing was a dream, just a figment of her apparently over-active imagination. When she opened her eyes and her surroundings hadn't magically transformed, she pinched her arm, wincing when she felt a jolt run through her arm.

Sitting up, she regarded her surroundings with distaste. The floor was wet and slimy with god-knows-what, and the air smelled musty. It wasn't very bright, but she gathered that she was in a cell of sorts, and, judging by the rocking of the floor underneath her, on a ship. At this revelation, she started to panic.

"Oh God. What am I doing here? What did I do to anyone that they would feel the need to lock me up in the bottom of a bloody ship! Is anyone planning on getting me out of here? It's damp and I'm going to catch a bloody cold if no one is careful! Is anyone listening to me? I'm bloody wet down here, and no doubt bruised to top it off! IS ANYONE BLOODY LISTENING TO ME?"

Because of her shouts and curses, Helena didn't hear a pair of boots on the stairs, their owner wincing at the volume of her words.

"She's got a pair of lungs on 'er, alright. I'm only halfway down the bloody stairs and I can hear 'er loud an' clear," Ty muttered. "Jack could've warned me, at least."

Helena was still ranting when Ty entered the room, water in one hand and bread in the other.

"OI, WOMAN!" he shouted, trying to make himself heard over her threats and shouts, which had increased in volume to a near-scream.

Surprised, she stopped, not bothering to shut her mouth. There, before her was a man, a bit older than her, if she had to guess. He had dark brown hair that was tied back into a tail, and tan skin, from working on the ship, she gathered. He was tall, much taller than her, and had a well-defined body, from what she could imagine, under the dirty clothes he wore: black pants, a white shirt, and a pair of brown boots. His eyes were beautiful, a light green that seemed to radiate with intensity. _And those cheekbones_, Helena mused,_ almost... girlish._

"What's yer name, lass," he said.

"Why? And why am I down here? What did I do that I had to be captured by god-knows-who, and sent down to this... _wretched_... place?"

"Why should you give me your name? Because I asked. And it's only polite that you answer if someone should ask you a simple question such as that. And you did nothing. Well, unless you consider being born wealthy your fault. But back to the original question: _What is your name?_"

"Helena. Helena Butler. But I still don't understand..."

"You don't need to. Here, have this. The captain will want to see you before long, I imagine," Ty said, cutting her off, and handing her the water and bread. With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared back up the stairs.

"Wait!" Helena called to his retreating footsteps, "I at least deserve to know your bloody name!"

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Later, when the little light that there was for Helena had faded, she heard footsteps on the stairs once more. This time, though, it wasn't the good-looking stranger that had brought her food before, but a big, burly man, who was dirtier than her cell, which was saying something. He unlocked the cell and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out as she protested

The crew member escorted – dragged – Helena up the stairs, and through a winding maze of hallways and corridors, until they reached the doors to the captain's cabin. Even from in the hallway, Helena could hear voices, one slurred and deep, and the other... familiar. It was the voice of the man who had come earlier to give her food. Suddenly, she found herself getting apprehensive, and as the crew member pushed her closer and closer to the door, and then knocked on it, she was beginning to be afraid. She had heard tales of what happened to ladies that were captured by pirate ships, and, judging by the disarray that this ship was in, she had gathered that this was, indeed, a pirate ship, with real pirates.

"Enter," said the slurred voice from within.

_Bloody hell_, Helena cursed silently.

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Let me know what you think!

-- Ella Raven.


	5. Why are you familiar?

**Chapter Four**

The crewmember that had so kindly "escorted" Helena from the brig pushed her in the general direction of the door to the captain's cabin, and walked away. She took a deep breath, tried to ease the backflips that her stomach seemed to be performing, and stepped forward, pushing the door open.

The room that met her eyes looked as if a tornado had blown through it, scattering everything in its path. Maps and various papers were scattered everywhere: on the bed, on the desk, tacked to the wall, falling off of bookshelves, and on the floor. Where there weren't maps and papers, there were clothes. And where there weren't clothes, there were bottles of rum. Many, many bottles of rum. To the far end of the room, there was a bed with lush canopy drapes, and wrapped around most of the room were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, with a vast array of books. She directed her attention to where the voices had come from: in the middle of the room stood a huge mahogany desk, with chairs on either side. On the one side, she saw the man that had come down earlier to give her some food and water, but on the other side, she saw another man that she'd never seen before.

_What a strange looking man,_ she thought, studying his eccentric appearance. _His hair is much too long for a man, and what's that in there? Bone? Beads? That's ridiculous. And kohl? On a man's eyes?_ Her nose wrinkled in distaste.

Captain Jack Sparrow, on the other hand, took in the sight of Helena with amusement in his eyes. Her disheveled appearance, her dirty and wrinkled dress, made of what must have been fine green fabric, the bruise forming on her cheek, and her tangled hair all made such a sight that he actually found himself chuckling. If he guessed right, she was a little brat, just like Elizabeth had been... _Ahh, Lizzie_... but he banished thoughts of her from his mind. _She had her eunuch, after all_. But if his predictions were correct, she'd been pampered and spoiled all her life. _Maybe a pirate's life would be good for 'er_, Jack mused. _I'd almost like to slap 'er fer tha' awful look on 'er face._

For Helena's face, indeed, conveyed her extreme dislike for the rather dirty men sitting before her, and for her whole situation in general. The younger man had caught her eye, though. _He doesn't belong here at all... he looks so much more... refined_. And she couldn't help but admitting to herself that he was, in fact, extremely handsome. One couldn't deny that. _With those eyes... and...oh, never mind_, she thought, and pushed the notion from her mind. It wouldn't do to get attached to someone, seeing as that she was currently trying to win her way off of the ship in the first place.

Ty, on the other hand, couldn't have felt differently. _What a spoiled prat she is. I bet she's never worked a day in her life_, he thought angrily. _And she's not even beautiful. Her face is too thin, her eyes are too big. Nothing impressive, and with all of that god-awful shrieking, I'll be glad when she's gone_. He, unlike Helena, didn't show his dislike outwardly. If there had been one thing that Jack had taught him while on the _Pearl_, it was not to let people know what you're thinking. That way, you always have the element of surprise. So he pasted on a false smile and cocked his head a bit, leaning back in his chair.

"Miss Butler, isn't it?" he addressed the girl.

"Yes..." she answered, uncertainly.

"Welcome to tha' _Black Pearl_, love!" Jack slurred, beckoning her to come closer to the desk where he was seated. Once she had tentatively approached, his eyes raked her up and down, taking in what he'd previously seen, but with greater exaggeration.

"Have you ever worked a day in your life, Helena?" Ty said, trying to keep the annoyance from creeping into his tone. "You don't mind if I call you Helena, do you? No, of course you don't," he said before she had time to answer.

"Helena, is it?" Jack repeated. "Pretty name. Sounds familiar, actually. I can't really think of where, though. I'll think of it, eventually. Can I call ye Lena? It's so much easier, ye understand."

_Lena_. She tried it out in her head. _Lena... Lena_. She wasn't particularly fond of it, it sounded so... pirate-y. But she didn't really have a choice; if it was her life or her name, she'd gladly relinquish her proper name. So she nodded, nervously. She still wasn't sure what to make of these men, whose names she hadn't even found out yet. They seemed alright to her, even if the one did seem a bit drunk, but she still wasn't sure what to think.

"So, Lena," Ty started again, "Do you have any idea why you're here?"

She shook her head no, saying quietly, "No. I've no idea."

"A bit quieter now, aren't ye, lass? Are ye afraid of me?"

Helena froze. _What does he want me to say? Any wrong move and I could be..._ she shuddered, and decided to keep her mouth shut.

"Well... Lena, I'm waiting for an answer," Ty probed.

"A little," she said softly.

"Well, then. Since we know your name, I suppose that it's alright for you to know ours. Right, Jack?"

"**Captain**, whelp," Jack growled.

"Right. So. I'm Ty, and this is the captain of the ship, Captain Jack Sparrow."

Helena's mouth fell open. "_You're_ Captain Jack Sparrow?"

"Ahhh. So ye've 'eard of me, lass. Nice ta' 'ear, actually. I was beginning ta' think tha' my reputation was growing lax," he responded.

"You and your crew terrorized Port Royal a few years back! You're filthy, no-good, rotten... pirates!" the last word she spat. Cat, her maid, had locked her in her closet during the pirate raid to protect her, though she'd broken out in about fifteen minutes, looking for her mother and father.

"Whoa, love. Tha' wasn't me, 'twas my former first mate. Don't jump ta' conclusions. But aye, we're pirates. Is tha' an... issue... for ye ?"

"No, Captain Sparrow. It is not. Do you mind telling me exactly why I'm on this bloody ship instead of at my birthday party?"

"Well, love, ta' make it simple, we needed money ta' repair tha' _Pearl_, an' wiv tha' Isla de Muerta going all pear-shaped, if ye will, we needed money. So we kidnapped ye, an' now we're off ta' Tortuga, where we'll wait until yer darling mummy an' daddy find out yer missing, an' then they'll post a rather large reward fer yer scrawny hide, an' we'll bring ye back to Port Royal, unharmed, collect tha' money, an' be on our way to fix up tha' _Pearl_," he finished.

"But you give your word that I'll be unharmed? What will you have me do, anyway? I don't want to sit in your prison for the entirety of my stay here," Helena scowled.

"Well," Jack said thoughtfully as he twisted one of the braids in his beard, and then, looking around, he said, "I've an idea, 'ere, love. It's obvious ta' me tha' yer not used to... work, per se. So since ye can't haul sails an' make yerself useful on deck, ye can make work of organizing me cabin!"

Helena looked around at the disarray and stared at him, mouth opened. "Clean your cabin. Clean this... this... typhoon? Are you serious, Captain Sparrow?"

"Completely," he finished with a smirk, which quickly turned to a thoughtful frown. _Why does she look familiar? 'Ave I threatened 'er before?_

Ty, on the other hand, had walked up to Helena, and, to her utter shock and humiliation, pulled at a corner sticking out of her bodice, and revealed a slim volume, worn and dirty, bound by a green ribbon.

"Give it 'ere, Ty," Jack demanded, and then turned the book over in his hands.

"_Where did you get this?_"

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Read and review, loves!

Yours,

Ella Raven.


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